


We have to share the bathroom

by Woodentrain



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Bathroom Shenanigans, Fluff, I suppose, M/M, mafalda knew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 15:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14572059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodentrain/pseuds/Woodentrain
Summary: What happens when two boys have to share a bathroom for six weeks?





	We have to share the bathroom

**Author's Note:**

> 12 minutes exactly! (Plus proof reading for SPAG errors, and planning time. There was an actual written plan, without which I would have written nothing even half decent.)  
> If I could write and edit at this rate normally, I would have finished my 'proper' fic long ago! But it doesn't work like that. This was a lot of fun, though.  
> You can find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).

“We have to share the bathroom.  It’s my only way out.”

Oliver barely hears it, because he’s collapsed, half-asleep and fully clothed, on the bed.  It won’t be a problem, though- he’s lived in plenty of dorms and shared apartments.  Sharing a bathroom is no big deal.

 

_Week 1_

Elio is heading out of his room when he walks into the bathroom and realises that Oliver’s showering. He’s facing the wall, back to Elio, and… wow.  

Elio backs out of the room on tiptoes, silently, and closes the door softly.

 

_Week 2_

Oliver doesn’t notice that the shower’s running when he goes to brush his teeth.  But it is, and there’s Elio.  Naked, obviously, eyes closed while he rinses the shampoo from his hair. Oliver’s mouth is suddenly dry. For such a skinny little thing, he’s, um, bigger than Oliver expected.  Not that he’s looking- he just, sort of, can’t help himself, when everything’s on display like this.

Fuck.  He needs to control himself.

 

_Week 3_

Oliver doesn’t have a lot of privacy.  The house is old, and the door between his room and Elio’s has a huge crack in it, right at eye level.  He knows that Elio has a complete view of his bed from his own room.  Not that he thinks Elio would peek, but… well, he could if he wanted to, and that’s enough to make Oliver a little uncomfortable.

So when he needs some more private time, the bathroom is the only option.  Which is what he’s doing, one hand braced against the tiles, cock in hand, when the door from Elio’s bedroom suddenly opens.  Oliver’s hand flies away and reaches for the soap, as if that’s what he was doing all along.

Elio covers his eyes. “Oh, sorry, I’m sorry!  I didn’t realise you were in here.”  Elio goes back into the hallway and closes the door, then opens it just a crack to call through.  “Hey, Oliver?  Why don’t you and I go swimming?”

 

_Week 4_

Elio’s stayed out late. What could he be doing? (Anything).  Who might be doing it with?  (Anyone).  Oliver leaves the door between his room and the bathroom ajar and waits, dozing, for Elio to get home.

He snaps fully awake at the sound of the toilet flushing, then listens as Elio brushes his teeth.  He hears a whisper of “good night, Oliver,” before Elio closes the door with a soft click.

 

_Week 5_

How long is Elio taking in the shower?  He’s been forever.  Oliver needs to get into the bathroom if he’s going to be ready to go down to breakfast in few minutes.  

“Elio?  Can I come in?”

No reply, so Oliver peeks around the door and goes in anyway.

There’s Elio, naked, looking at Oliver as though he intended for him to walk in and see him like this.

“Were you waiting for me?”

“Maybe.”  He laughs.  “I thought you were never coming.  Join me?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

 

_Week 6_

They’re both in the shower. Elio has his back pressed to the wall, eyes closed, mouth hanging open.  One of Oliver’s hands is wrapped around both his wrists, pinning them against the tiles above his head, and the other has drifted between his legs.

The door opens, and Mafalda enters with an armful of laundry.  They’re frozen, statue-still, under the water as she goes straight through the door to Elio’s room and reemerges.  

“Elio.  Oliver.”

Oliver doesn’t know whether he’s supposed to respond.  Mafalda says something in Italian, and Elio replies, “Sì, Mafalda.”

She says something else then walks out, closing the door firmly behind her.

Oliver steps back a little.  He’s gone pale.  “Oh, god, Elio.  What did she say?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about.  She said to hurry up, because dinner is served in ten minutes.  And also- she said next time we should remember to lock the door.


End file.
